


The Present

by shittershutter



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: M/M, bottom!Gibson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: "No," Tommy says before letting the entire setting sink into his brain.Gibson squeezes his healthy hand, the one he can apply pressure to, and nods."What kind of an anniversary present is this?" Tommy enquires weakly. "I'd take a shaving cream instead."





	The Present

**Author's Note:**

> I love Tommy and Gibson. And they don't leave me alone. 
> 
> * Unbetad. Sorry.

Gibson raises a finger to get his attention while still kissing him back and no matter how much of an enthusiastic tongue the younger man uses, that finger isn't going down.

And Tommy has already gotten out of his trousers and even spread his legs. That's a fucking monumental achievement to him, especially when done in under ten minutes. Now he has to look for his elbows to get them under himself and he'd rather stay horizontal until the morning if he can really help it. 

Gibson motions to him to stay down but doesn't say it, his tongue sliding back and forth against his lower lip. He should be able to speak given the intimate atmosphere but he doesn't even attempt to and that's not a good sign. 

Tommy forcefully tears his eyes from the man's semi-hard cock, safely hidden in the shadows with its barely distinguishable outline looking as familiar as Tommy's own body parts. 

"Darling?" 

Gibson puts a vaseline jar on Tommy's chest with a soft smack, pushes the younger man's legs together and straddles them, his arse hovering just slightly above the man's knees not to hurt him with the excessive pressure. Then he stares at him with his eyes, catlike yellow in the rusty light of the bedside lamp, waiting.

"No," Tommy says before letting the entire setting sink into his brain. 

Gibson squeezes his healthy hand, the one he can apply pressure to, and nods. 

"What kind of an anniversary present is this?" Tommy enquires weakly. "I'd take a shaving cream instead."

The other man's teeth flash in semi-darkness and Tommy notes that while it's definitely a laugh, it's completely soundless.

"We'll both get more enjoyment out of shaving cream, that I guarantee you."

 _You don't know that,_ Gibson signs with one hand, the other still holding Tommy's tightly. 

The younger man untangles their fingers and walks them up Gibson's thigh, settling for a meditative caress, from the hipbone to the knee and back. As his mind drifts, he imagines himself lying between the man's spread legs, pushing in and out surrounded by the flesh that is as hot as Gibson's mouth but tighter. And it pulsates around him, vibrant with the man's heartbeat, grips him tightly and doesn't let go. 

He blinks and comes to his senses, looking down at himself, and he's hard, so bloody hard his prick sticks perpendicularly up, pointing vaguely in Gibson's direction. If his brain has some reservations, his body clearly doesn't, that is absolutely clear.

"Do we have any beer left?" he asks weakly, completely defeated, fingers still tracing the fat muscles of the older man's leg. "Get me in the mood, come on". 

Gibson chuckles with a faint sound behind it now, clearly relieved, and leans in, kissing Tommy's belly. He then disappears into the darkness to get a drink and the younger man just stays in place massaging his scarred hip angrily to get the blood flowing into the damn useless thing. 

"I want you to enjoy it," he says when Gibson's back. He drinks too fast, spills the foaming liquid all over the place, but the other's mouth is instantly there, licking it off his cheeks, and the chin and the chest to clean it all up until Tommy's incompetent alcoholism is nothing more than a dirty secret between them. 

_I will,_ Gibson signs. 

"And I can't even move properly."

 _I will,_ Gibson signs again making Tommy blush, and groan and hide his sticky hot face in the man's chest and stay safely tucked there until his cheeks cool down.

Then he smears the vaseline all over them both with useless shaky hands. Gibson is trembling too, rather unhelpfully, but keeps a strong facade for both of their sakes, twitchy smiles and all.

"I'd still take the shaving cream, by the way," Tommy tells him. "Or a pair of socks perhaps. It's not too late, think about it." It gets him a bite to the jaw and Gibson leans back on his hands and decidedly rubs the well-slicked crack of his arse against Tommy's length, root to the tip and back.

 _Fuck it,_ Tommy thinks. He's about to perform the best interpretation of translational motion the destroyed bones of his leg and pelvis are capable of, so help him God, and all the saints, and the queen. 

His surgeon will be proud of him after this. Alex may even cry. Who fucking knew there'd come a day Tommy boy would finally put his cock to a good use it was intended for.

Gibson takes him in his hand, a familiar gentle grasp, spreading the slick along the skin and takes him in at an awkward angle and with an agonizingly slow speed, almost all the way, stopping just in time not to put any weight onto Tommy's lower half. 

There is confidence in his moves and it's either powered by the love alone or, more realistically, by the hands-on research which Gibson has been engaging in in preparation. 

"Have you been playing with yourself when I'm not looking, hun?" Tommy whispers. It's fine, it's just another dirty secret he'll keep.

He can't quite trust himself to push up and kiss the man's open mouth so he touches his hair instead, freshly washed and so thick his fingers drown in it, knuckle after knuckle. 

Gibson's cock is soft, his teeth are barred in a joyless grin and Tommy would rather have him off because the tightness of his body hurts and the heartbeat that drums through the older man is so strong it feels like it's going to tear them both apart.

Yet they are stuck together, stiff limbs trapping each other in place. It takes Tommy a century to tear his clawlike hands off the mattress, encircle the man's trembling forearms on each side of his chest and start rubbing them through his own discomfort.

Gibson's nostrils flare as his breathing deepens in time, seconds before Tommy's about to announce his own incompetence. He spreads his thighs wider, shifting his weight experimentally until he settles more comfortably above the younger man. 

_Maybe fuck the shaving cream, on the other hand,_ Tommy thinks as he stares at the man above so hard his eyes sting, either because he forgets how to blink, unable to look away or because the sight is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

The pale skin with the tan lines down the arms and up the neck, the black hair down the lower belly, the hard muscles of his limbs and the softer, rounder outlines of his sides. He looks so strong, healthy, not at all like he used to, back in those dark years when Tommy was afraid to fall asleep and wake up next to a dead body.

Now he looks like he can take it, all of it. The life itself, the chronical pneumonia one after the other, impending arthritis in his dislocated joints and Tommy's cock on this particular occasion. Tommy, on the other hand, is all protruding bones and itchy scars still, no change here, but Gibson can make him feel big, sturdy just by being next to him, just by breathing into his mouth when they kiss, breathing life into it.

Tommy takes the man's soft cock in his sticky hands and strokes it until Gibson starts moving his hips with him, instinct taking over, sliding between the tight fingers. And then, purely by the inertia of it, he begins pushing back onto the length inside.

Tommy lets him go for a moment to grab the man's pelvis and adjust the stiff position of it. Gibson follows, obedient and trusting, with his eyes still tightly shut. But at least he starts gasping at some point and that's good, that's going somewhere.

He reaches for Tommy's hand blindly, pushing his face into it, tongue and teeth against the palm. 

"Look at me," Tommy asks him. He can feel Gibson leaking between his fingers and he is loose enough now to squeeze the cock inside him as he rides it. He wants to see him before he comes but the man hides his face as he nuzzles the palm pressed against it. 

Tommy lets him have it as he lets go, the muscles of his carefully arranged legs shaking as he tries to keep them still not to bother the bones. Gibson rewards him with a long moan rising from the depths of his chest, so brutal and shameless the younger man turns bright red to the roots of his hair.  


_Now that's the present,_ Tommy manages to note, turning his head to hide his own face into the pillow. 

When Gibson explodes, he misses the view but feels it from the top of his head to the toes. The convulsion, the hot spurts on his fingers, running down his forearms. Then Gibson's mouth is on his as he slides off and lies down beside him.

"Good?" Tommy asks in a while settling for the most basic and most pressing question.

"Good," Gibson echoes quietly and digs his face into Tommy's side to avoid any further questions. The younger man hooks a lazy arm around his neck and lets him have the final word.


End file.
